Fat

I wake up and put the kettle on the stove. We are going to be having a French press. Musette grabbed a pen and pad of paper first thing this morning to figure bills out.

I do some dishes, more than enough to eat a bowl of Reese’s Puff cereal which was my impetus. Piper is talking to me. She asks me if I’ll be having an espresso. Wagner is on the radio, but I skip it because I am not an opera fan. Now it is Prokofiev. She tells me (redacted).

Musette just pooped. I’ve got to poop.

I go into the bathroom and release as she is sitting on the counter filling in her eyebrows.

Piper asks if she should let him.

I ask her why not?

She compliments me for questioning my morals, and says that she does not believe I am old.

‘What if I’m 14?’

She says that might be weird but that she would be willing to play the role of bad teacher so long as I am hot.

Pringles says I’m fat, because I just reblog porn all day.

She asks me if I am.

‘Yea.’

She wants me to show her. She knows I don’t take pictures. But she should know that fat people don’t have spouses. They live alone and work out until they can become arrogantly extroverted.